


An Expanded Support Log

by ReynaAtTheEnd



Series: Verdant Moon, Azure Winds [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Mentioned War Crimes, Post-Time Skip, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Time Skip, Support Conversations, Survivor Guilt, crafted as though they were part of the game, not wholly concurrent with events of The Savior King, what else do you call the Tragedy of Duscur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25674421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReynaAtTheEnd/pseuds/ReynaAtTheEnd
Summary: Support conversations that I would have added to FE Three Houses, and supports for my original character Atra of Agartha. Inspired by companion fanfic The Savior King, the Master Tactician and the Queen of Liberation.
Series: Verdant Moon, Azure Winds [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561672
Comments: 26
Kudos: 83





	1. Atra C Supports

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry these are late; here are the first four supports in Atra's log.
> 
> Atra's Complete Support Log:
> 
> Byleth (C-S) Claude (C-A) Dimitri (C-A+) Glenn (C-A) Seteth (C-A) Hapi (C-A) Yuri (C-A+) Marianne (C-A) Dedue (C-B) Petra (C-B) Gilbert (C-A)

**Byleth C Support (** pre-timeskip **)**

Byleth walked into the training grounds late at night, following the sound of steel clashing against wood. She could also hear cursing in a language she didn't recognize, despite traveling all over the place in her mercenary days. The voice was only slightly familiar – they had just become acquainted, after all – but she had a sneaking suspicion who was venting their frustrations even before she opened the door and stepped inside.

Atra was practicing, hammering on the training dummies like they were a personal enemy. Despite the fact that wooden swords were available, she was using live steel – and her flame sword, which couldn't be used inside for obvious reasons, was buckled at her side. Byleth came to a halt and watched her for a moment, wondering if the girl ever went anywhere without her weapons.

“Ah...!” Atra finished her kata and delivered a kick to the dummy that sent it flying across the hall. Byleth watched this happen with one slightly raised eyebrow – if she were a more emotive woman, she might have winced.

“P-Professor.” The black-haired girl immediately straightened, dropped her sword to the ground, and bowed to her. “I didn't realize anyone else was still awake. Do you have need of these premises?”

“No, it's fine. I was just wondering who was up so late.”

Atra lifted her head slightly, looking a little confused. Had she been expecting a more violent chastisement? “A-Ah...I could not sleep, so I came here to clear my head. I know I'm not supposed to be in here after hours, since I'm not a student, but I did not wish to leave the monastery.”

Byleth tilted her head. “What's bothering you?” She asked.

The black-haired girl straightened up and sighed, lifting her sword hilt with one food and sheathing it at her side. “I...was thinking about my home,” She confessed. “Even though I can't go back, and wouldn't even if I had the chance, I...miss it. The surface – I mean, Fodlan, is mysterious and alien to me; there are no commonalities I can rely on, no one who speaks the tongue I was raised on, nothing even slightly familiar for me to take comfort in. I feel as though I can't speak to anyone lest I reveal how little I know about them or anything they take for granted. I have been trying to – approximate – and have done a lot of reading to learn more, but it's just a stopgap so far. It's...it's like being in a dream I can't wake up from.”

“...I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were suffering,” Byleth said apologetically, all while silently kicking herself. Somehow it hadn't even crossed her mind how completely alone Atra must feel right now.

“N-No, you shouldn't say that!” Atra protested semi-frantically, waving her arms back and forth. She closed her eyes. “My minor discomfort does not matter. I'll continue to learn until I can properly interact with the kingdoms; you needn't waste energy or time on my incompetence.”

“I'm a professor, and you are my student. It's my job to teach you,” Byleth objected with a slight frown, crossing her arms.

“Your...student?” Atra shuffled her feet, looking at her in awestruck confusion. “But...I am a deserter from the enemy. Why would you offer to...?” She took a step back, guilt flickering across her face. “You are busy enough, aren't you?”

“I want to help you, Atra. How can I do that for you?” Byleth repeated. She gave the mysterious girl what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Atra blinked slowly, her hands knitting together. “You shouldn't be so kind to me.” She protested meekly, even as her shoulders slumped in surrender. “But if you insist, I – I would like to know more about the day to day life across Fodlan. This way I will know and understand what everyone is fighting for, and what they consider precious.”

“I admit that wasn't what I was expecting.” Byleth mused. “But I can do that.”

“You're very kind.” Atra bowed again; she straightened without prompting this time, but the excessive deference was a little disconcerting to former mercenary. “In return for this, I'll tell you everything I remember about Shamballa. I hope that knowing much about city itself will prove to be useful to you should we eventually succeed in storming the city.”

The black-haired girl looked around. “Perhaps we should move somewhere a bit more secluded? I do not wish to get you in trouble.”

* * *

**Dimitri C Support** (pre-timeskip)

“Atra.”

The black-haired girl nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning around to face the prince with wide blue eyes. “P-Prince Dimitri.” She hesitated for a split second, staring at his face. Then she dropped to one knee and bowed her head. “H-Has something happened? What is your will?”

“It's nothing like that,” The prince protested, gesturing for her to stand up. “I've come to apologize, actually.”

She flinched violently, before looking up at him in confusion. “Apologize...? What for?”

“Clearly I've done something to frighten you terribly,” Dimitri responded quietly. “If my behavior during the Remire attack permanently colored my character to you, I do not blame you. But I want you to know that I mean you no harm.”

Slowly Atra stood up, staring at him in surprise. “That was –“ She hesitated, then shook her head. “I don't hold your anger against you, your highness. I wholly understand and respect it.”

Dimitri blinked twice, stunned. “Why on earth would you say that? I was – unhinged. I failed to control my temper and behaved like a demon; it was a shameful display.”

Atra frowned. “I'm not sure I understand. You were angry at the monstrous things inflicted upon the villagers there. You loved them and couldn't abide the injustice against them. You fought brutally, yes...but it didn't come from sadism or any cruelty I'd expect from the army I was once a part of. That rage didn't come from a place of evil or cruelty.”

Dimitri opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it. He hadn't heard someone consider his explosive loss of control that way. “I – I suppose... but that I should not have lost myself. It's a great failing of mine; no good king would possess such a foul temperament.”

Atra looked a little surprised by that. “Should a king not be capable of being ruthless against his enemies when they harm what is his?” She asked in innocent bewilderment.

“When the situation calls for it, yes,” Dimitri acknowledged, before earnestly saying, “but he must also be merciful, and able to separate out his feelings from his duty.” His eyes darkened a bit. “Does Agartha believe differently?”

“What Agartha believes is not worth mentioning,” Atra responded dully. “As long as you are working to secure the greatness of humanity, anything you do is noble.” She shook her head. “My mother didn't want me to go into the army. She said that she preferred to keep my sister and I close to her, but I think she feared what it would do to us...rightly so, in the end.”

“Your mother?”

She shut her eyes. “Yes. Thales's guards made her disappear when I was a child. I don't know why; I wasn't told even when I entered the army and was trusted with an important mission.” Noting the prince's startled and confused reaction, she quietly explained, “There are guards that monitor the...villages, I suppose you would call them, searching for any sign of dissension against our saviors. If they decide you're a threat, they take you away in the middle of the night to who knows where and are never seen again.”

“That's _monstrous!_ ” Dimitri snapped, causing her to flinch. “A king's subjects are not _things_ for him to discard if he becomes suspicious of them! They are not enemies for him to wage war against! It is duty to safeguard them from danger and to see to their happiness!”

Atra flinched, causing him to start and forcefully take a calming breath. “Forgive me.”

“You shouldn't-” The girl stopped abruptly, then pressed her nails into her palms. Her eyes were wavering on something over his shoulder. “I deserve no apologies from you.”

“What? ...I don't understand.” Dimitri responded in confusion.

“There was something that I-” Atra stuttered a bit, shaking her head. “That night...I was there that night, four years ago. I was there when all those people were stolen from you...”

“I know. That's why you were able to save Glenn's life. You distracted the men who would have otherwise chased after myself and Gustav.” Dimitri reached out and touched her wrist. “I'll never be able to pay you back for that.”

“You owe me nothing. The reason I was there – I had only reacted so late in the night because I - “ Atra's throat was locking up on her; she took a step back, clasping the wrist he had touched in her free hand. “I was ignorant...I didn't question what we were doing and I...”

“Atra?”

“I'm sorry,” Atra whispered. “I'm so, so sorry.”

Then she turned and fled, bolting down the hallway and shoved her way through the double doors. Dimitri called her name in stunned surprise, reaching after her and watching in confusion and mounting unease as she vanished.

“You betrayed Agartha...why do you think I can't forgive you?” He wondered.

* * *

**Claude C Support** (pre timeskip)

Walking into the library, Claude paused in the doorway and blinked twice. “Is that...?” A curious smile on his face, he made his way across the room to where Atra was standing with her back to him, trying to pull a book down from the highest shelf that she couldn't quite reach. She was wholly absorbed in her task, apparently oblivious to his approach. “Need some help there?”

Atra let out a startled shriek and tried to spin around; unfortunately, she'd been standing on her toes and leaning forward, causing her to loose her balance and tumble backwards into him. Claude managed to catch her in his arms but not stop her fall, causing both of them to crash to the wooden floor – her on top of him.

“Ugh...” Atra let out a dazed noise, propping herself up on her hands. “W-Where did you come from-?” She blinked a few times down at her impromptu landing pad, blushed lightly and scrambled off of him, rolling up onto her knees. “I'm sorry, I lost my footing.” She offered her hand.

“S'okay,” Claude wheezed, “I'm okay...I think.” He gazed at the offer for a moment before accepting her hand cautiously. “For someone who was too paranoid to enter the monastery for days after her arrival, you were pretty distracted.”

“I thought everyone was still at dinner,” Atra said sheepishly as she helped him stand up. “That's why I took this chance to go to the library...”

Claude raised an eyebrow. “Uh, dinner ended two hours ago. I thought you would have noticed...though I'm wondering if you were so absorbed in your reading that you didn't notice anyone coming and going.”

Atra's eyes widened. “W-What? That's – oh no,” She looked anxiously at the doorway. “I – how did I not notice?”

“Call it a hunch, but I think you found something fun to read.” Claude responded teasingly. “Is there a great, romantic fable that has caught your eye?”

“Oh no, I haven't gotten to those yet,” Atra said in all seriousness, looking around the room and then darting over to a nearby chair. Once she noted that they were, in fact, alone in the library for now, she grabbed it and dragged it over to the shelf. “I've been reading the recent history of the Alliance; there are so many men and places to keep track of that I've had to keep finding one book after another to fully grasp it.”  
  
Claude's eyebrows rose with no small amount of incredulity. “Of all the fascinating tales the surface world has to offer, fact and fiction, and you chose Alliance-Style politicking? How are you not asleep on your feet, much less enjoying it.”

“Because it's fascinating too!” Atra responded, waving her arms. “How can five equally powerful families with completely different agendas work in harmony to maintain the land their rule over? And they allow land and titles to be bought by anyone with a knighthood!” She smiled earnestly at him. “I want to know how it all works. Everything that I knew about life underground says that it should be impossible.”

“Eh...that might depend on your definition of it 'working'.” Claude remarked faintly, looking a little blindsided. “Speaking from experience, the days when those five families are trying to agree on a budget usually involve endless arguments, accusations and screaming, and not a whole lot productive happening in the end.”

“But it does work,” Atra persisted, climbing into the chair and grabbing the book she had been after the first time. “Or else the Alliance wouldn't exist. I've been reading about various incidents for the past one hundred years, and it's amazing how what should have torn the land apart ended in compromise and diplomacy. It's completely different from Shamballa...it's incredible.”

“You...are the first person I've ever heard describe it that way,” Claude said, bemused by her fascination. “I've heard a lot of people disparaging how the land that once belonged to the Empire and the Holy Kingdom is how run by the bickering masses.”

Atra frowned. “But it's good that the people of the Alliance are not left to the whims of one man. Otherwise they could end up under the heel of the likes of...” Her expression darkened. “Well. It wouldn't be different from Shamballa. What's wrong with wanting to avoid that?”

Claude stared at her for a moment, pondering how to respond to that. “What indeed...” His eyes dropped to the cover of her latest book, and he made a noise of surprise. “You're looking at the Alliance-Almyra conflicts now?”

“Yes,” Atra nodded. “Almyra has been mentioned a number of times in the previous texts, but always in passing; I hope this will tell me more about the land and its people, and their history with the Alliance.”

“...Why do you want to know about that?” Claude asked after a moment. “It's a land outside of Fodlan. Most people call it the savage east.”

“And the people I grew up with called the surface – Fodlan – the land of the beasts,” Atra responded with no small amount of contempt. Her irritation didn't last, however; there was a rare and genuine brightness in her eyes as she opened the book's cover. “I want to know about them. I want to know how they live their lives. There's so much that I don't know...and I can finally change that.”

Claude stared for a moment. Then he smiled at her and said, “Well, that book is only going to tell you about the Hero of Daphnel and how she repelled the fearsome Eastern Menace over a series of grueling battles.” His dramatic tone caused her to give him a strange look; he smiled back and said, “I might know something else that might soothe your curiosity, though.”

“You do?” Atra asked hopefully, closing the book and tucking it under one arm.

“Yeah. You see, I happened to stumble on a short report written by a young lady of the Alliance that paints a rather different picture of the East than usual. If you're really interested, I think I can find it despite the church's best efforts.”

* * *

**Glenn C Support** (pre-timeskip)

Glenn hammered on the door to the modest room. He could hear moaning and tossing within, a voice whimpering 'I'm sorry', 'stop, please' and worst of all, 'don't do this'... Grimacing, he finally forced the door open and hurried to his friend's side.

“Wake up, Atra.” He hissed urgently, grabbing her shoulders and shaking him violently. “Wake up! Wake up!”

After a few seconds her eyes snapped open; Glenn instantly released her and jumped backwards just in time to avoid the fist that nearly hit him square in the center of the face. Atra vaulted up in bed, looking around wildly. Though he couldn't see through her eyes, Glenn knew what she was dreaming of – fire and death. “Atra,” He repeated calmly, drawing her attention to him as she struggled back to the waking world. “Atra, it's done.”

She stared at him for a moment that seemed to go on forever. Then she slumped, her mind waking up all the way and the remains of her nightmares fading away in its wake. “Glenn...”

“You had that dream again?” His voice was devoid of judgment. Ever since that day, he'd had to rouse her from sleep like this.

“...I think seeing the prince reminded me,” She whispered. “Every moment I spent in that place, from the moment I poisoned them to the moment the fires finally burned themselves out. And everything that happened afterwards.”

“Did you remember what I said when you told me everything?” Glenn asked her. It was practiced, because he'd said the words before.

“Glenn,” Atra started to protest, but he didn't give her the chance.

“There's no point in hating a sword rather than the man who wields it,” He reminded her. “You were ignorant. You'd been taught to hate.”

“I shouldn't have done it. Why did I do it? I walked among them for hours, I saw them talking and laughing and acting like ordinary humans. Why did I still do it?” Atra asked plaintively. Glenn didn't answer, knowing she wasn't speaking to him.

“You were afraid.” Glenn said firmly. “I've made my peace with it.”

“Even now that you know what was stolen from you?” Atra didn't look at him, but she knew that he tensed up at that. “Your brother...your friends...your fiance...”

“...”

“I wish I could do more for you,” Atra whispered. “I always have. I – I don't want you to feel obligated to protect me because I saved your life. You deserved better than what happened that night.”

“Yeah,” Glenn murmured. “But I've made up my mind about this for a long time. You're my friend, Atra. When you tell Dimitri what happened, I'm going to intercede for you. You don't deserve to die like Thales does.”

Atra swung her legs off the side of the bed, managing to give him a small smile at that. “You keep saying that. It took me the longest time to believe it at first, and then even longer to understand. I'm still not sure I really understand.”

“Well, I wasn't raised underground,” Glenn said, light and playful.

Atra snorted in dry amusement. “No you were not.”

They shared a wry look; dark humor had been a frequent coping mechanism between them since that night four years ago.

“Why don't you come into the monastery,” Glenn urged, sitting on the bed next to her. “You can't avoid everyone else forever, especially if we're going to be fighting together.”

“I know. It's just...” Atra rested her hands on her knees. “I am a renegade from Shamballa. I lived in a world of steel, darkness and cruelty; I might as well be from another time and place altogether. Can someone like me really be welcome anywhere in Fodlan?”

“I don't see why it shouldn't be possible,” Glenn responded. “Try it, Atra. My – my brother is a bit prickly, yes, but he's caring and protective when you get past that. Why don't you come and spar with us this afternoon? Consider it a starting point.”

Atra wavered for a moment. Then she nodded. “Alright. For you, I'll try it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atra Support Log
> 
> Byleth B support  
> Claude B support  
> Marianne C support

**Byleth B Support**

Byleth walked down into the graveyard and blinked a few times when she saw Atra standing in front of the statue of Saint Cethleann that overlooked the tombstones. Having planned to visit her father, she elected to delay that for a moment to see what was troubling one of the most burdened souls in her army. “Atra?” She asked, walking over.

“O-Oh...Byleth...” The black-haired girl turned and blinked at her, hesitantly running a hand through her hair. “You've come to visit your father, I assume...I'll step out.”

“There's no need.” Byleth said quietly, stopping in front of her. “Who are you here to visit, Atra? Do you know anyone buried here?”

Atra stared at her for a long moment before shaking her head. “No one in particular. ...But those who I wronged aren't buried in any known grave. I didn't even know their names at the time; I still don't know most of them, truthfully.”

“...” Byleth waited, unsure how to frame her question as the renegade Agarthan stood there, her head slightly bowed. The dark shadow over her face was familiar, however...ever since they'd met, the other girl had looked like she was being haunted by something terrible. It was intense enough to remind her of storybooks lead by heroines taunted by the ghosts of fallen loved ones and ghost-infested castles; except Atra was real...

“...I didn't tell you why I left Agartha, did I?” Atra asked after a moment of silence.

Byleth gave her a curious look.

“My mother was taken away by Thales's night guard when I was a child,” Atra started quietly, clasping one wrist with the other hand. “She hid me in the closet, so they never saw me, and left me behind...I was never told why. You see, in Shamballa, Thales and his close advisers are considered humanity's saviors. Any rebellion against them, no matter how big or small, is an unforgivable crime...the night guard are tasked with finding rebels and taking them away to an unknown fate. To avoid suspicions of dissension from falling on ourselves, my sister and I enlisted in the militia to serve our benevolent lord.”

Atra looked up at the sky, soft awe in her expression. “Shamballa is a city buried deep beneath the earth; it was the only world I and everyone who lives there had ever seen. I'd never seen the sky, felt dirt between my toes, felt the wind on my face...it's a cold, dark and sterile city, however comfortable it can be. The only thing I knew about the people on the surface was what Thales told me.”

“He lied to you,” Byleth speculated.

Atra nodded tightly. “He taught us that you were animals; that you had the blood of beasts in your veins, that you were savages who lacked the intelligence that true humans possessed. That you stole the surface from us.” She snorted bitterly. “So when he sent me out on my first mission, to sabotage one of the surface kingdoms by assassinating its rulers, I thought nothing of it.”

“By that you mean...” Byleth realized, her eyes widening.

“Yes,” Atra responded dully, lowering her head. “I was one of the soldiers sent to instigate the Tragedy of Duscur. My duty was to poison the wine so the men of the kingdom would be weak and unable to defend themselves. Even though I spent hours there...listening to the Kingdom and Duscur people trading stories, seeing their wares, watching them behave _no differently_ then my neighbors; despite my growing unease and uncertainty...I did my duty. I couldn't conceive the notion of disobeying Thales the way my mother had.”

“I watched the slaughter happen and only then...only then did I realize what a fool I was, who the beasts really were. I saw men trying to protect each other, giving up their lives to buy civilians the chance to escape...I saw my sister cut them down like they were animals. Only then did I know the truth – that Thales was a monster, and he had made me one as well.”

Atra shook her head and turned to fully face Byleth, raising her watery dark blue eyes to meet the professor's. “I am damned...I know that. I came to you because I hoped that I could do something right in my life; that I could stop Thales from killing the other people of the surface.”

“...You don't think you can redeem yourself by doing this?” Byleth asked.

“How could what happened that night be forgiven?” Atra responded in bewilderment.

“Forgiveness isn't earned, it's given.” Byleth said quietly.

“...” Atra stared at her for a moment before shaking her head. “You...are a very strange person, Professor. I don't mean that in a bad way, I just...I can't fathom how you can hear this and not hate me. Do you truly believe that someone can be forgiven for such things?”

* * *

**Claude B Support**

Claude walked up onto the battlements, which were often empty in the evening, and blinked in bemused surprise. “There she is again...” He said, half to himself, before trotting up the small stairwell to the mini garden on the monastery's third floor.

Atra was sitting on the bench, her nose in a book – one of many that were sitting in a large stack next to her. She didn't seem to notice his approach until he was roughly fifteen feet away from her; then her eyes flickered up and widened slightly. “Oh, Claude; I'm glad to see you. I think this book has been altered.” She held out the tome for him to inspect.

Claude raised an eyebrow as he accepted the book and scanned the cover. “This is an official history book from the Alliance,” He pointed out mildly.

Atra pouted at him. “Well, _yes_ , but the description of the Almyrans is completely different from that first text you gave me. You'd think they were uncivilized bloodthirsty maniacs if you read this book.”

“I suspect that was the intention,” Claude said, causing her frown to deepen.

“But why?” Atra asked, her frown deepening.

“Good question,” The brunette deadpanned. He opened the cover of the book and checked the publication date, before clicking his tongue in comprehension. “That probably explains it; this was written after the last war with Almyra. The Alliance wouldn't have been very willing to forget in the aftermath of hostilities.”

“But if they write books like this, it just ensures that hostilities will start again in the future,” Atra complained. A dark look crossed her face. “Why would anything change if they teach their children to carry on old resentments? Reduce them to pawns in their war?”

Claude cocked his head and regarded her curiously for a long moment. He pondered how much he might tell her for a few seconds, then smiled faintly. “So you want things to change, huh?”

“More than anything,” Atra said quietly. “I've spent years carrying regret and grief that I might have never had to carry, if I had only known the truth. I don't want there to be more people like me.”

Claude turned and sat down next to her, placing the book on top of what he judged to be the 'already read' pile. “It's hard for people to realize things can be different when they lack other sorts of perspective,” He remarked. “You said that in Shamballa, no one knows what the surface is like because only Thales and those loyal to him have been there and back. How were you supposed to know any different when you were locked away from anything that would prove otherwise?” He looked up at the sky with a wistful expression. “It's not quite as severe, but that's what Fodlan's Locket is for us.”

“The Locket?” Atra blinked. “The fortress along the border of Almyra? Why there in particular?”

“It's not enforced directly by any one piece of text, but the church discourages contact with the lands outside of Fodlan, and the nobility reinforce that. That means we choose not to understand the outside world, not to different from how Thales chooses not to understand the people of the surface.” Claude snorted. “It's unsettling to know we have that in common.”

“If so, that should be changed,” Atra said with ironclad certainty. “Perhaps there's no more reason to hate and fear Almyra than there is to hate and fear the surface. Why should there be?”

After a second of forcing his knee-jerk reaction down, keeping it deep in his chest to warm his heart, Claude turned to her and gave her a warm, honest smile. “Why indeed?”

* * *

**Marianne C Support**

“Oh, Atra...have you come here to pray?”

Atra turned around from where she had been staring up at the status of the Four Saints to face Marianne. “Marianne, right? I...suppose, in a way, I am.” She glanced back up at the statues. “Not that the goddess would hear the words of the likes of me...”

“...Why would you say that?” Marianne asked slowly, blinking in surprise.

“The goddess is an arbiter of judgment, yes?” Atra asked uncertainly, crossing her arms. “My regrets and my evils outnumber most people's. To have raged against her and denied her divinity is unforgivable in her eyes.”

“That's not true,” Marianne corrected quietly, taking a few steps forward so she was standing next to the renegade Agarthan. “Is that what you were taught underground?”

“Yes,” Atra admitted. “It took me weeks to feel confident enough to approach...I've been terribly afraid of coming in here, into her holy place. Truthfully, I'm surprised She did not smite me simply for stepping foot inside of the monastery.”

“The Goddess is merciful, the Goddess is kind,” Marianne said aloud, clearly repeating a passage from memory. She shook her head lightly. “The Goddess forgives if one seeks atonement, Atra. That is why there are prayers of repentance.”

“Truly?” Atra looked up at the statues again. Marianne wasn't sure what she saw in the expressions of the saints; she doubted it was mercy or compassion, however, because Atra shivered as she gazed upon them. “Is that really possible, even for someone like me?”

Marianne started to respond, but hesitated. She had asked that question about herself many times, albiet for different reasons. So she wasn't certain how to encourage the other girl... “I can teach you some of the prayers, if you want,” She offered instead, deciding that she might as well start there.

Atra hesitated for a moment, a clear flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. “I...” She bit her lip, and then bowed politely. “I would appreciate that, yes. And perhaps – are there any songs that the choir sing specifically at funerals?”

“I know a few, yes.” Marianne remembered singing at the makeshift funeral for her father and mother, after all.

“Thank you for your kindness. I appreciate it,” Atra said softly.

“It's okay. Everyone who's lost in the dark deserves the chance to find their way back,” Marianne responded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have Dimitri's B support here too, but that one is giving me trouble. It's hard to strike the perfect balance of emotion for how complex Dimitri's feelings towards her would be, even after he regains his sanity in the BL route. I'm still working on it...it's just gonna take a little time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atra Support Log
> 
> Dimitri B Support   
> Glenn B Support

**Dimitri B Support**

Atra swallowed minutely and stepped into the training hall, where Dimitri was practicing with his lance. She trotted up until she was a half a dozen feet away from him and waited, watching him go through the motions with a ferocity of someone venting out their emotions until he finished, panting heavily and brushing his soaked banks away from his eyes. “Hello, Your Highness,” She said quietly.

“Atra,” Dimitri acknowledged, his voice slightly strained in that he was trying to be friendly or at least inviting, but couldn't quite manage it before collapsing back into neutrality. “Thank you for coming to meet me.” He dropped the training lance to the floor and walked over to the table where a heavy cloth and a jug of water was waiting for him. “I wish for you to tell me a story.”

“...I understand,” Atra acknowledged, a little surprised but accepting it nonetheless.

She remembered the moment when she'd told the Blue Lions the truth about Agartha and the Tragedy of Duscur. When she's acknowledged her involvement, what she had done in her ignorance and foolishness, Dimitri had _howled_ like a mortally wounded animal and lunged at her, knocking her to the ground. Glenn, Byleth and Rodrigue had rushed over and forcibly dragged him off of her when he'd started to strangle her; ultimately, they'd had to knock him out to keep him from trying to kill her. Judging by the somewhat remorseful look on Dimitri's face when he glanced at her, there were still some pretty spectacular bruises on her neck.

“Where do you want me to start?” She asked.

Dimitri took a deep drink of water and turned slightly so she was looking at his profile, staring down at the floor as he began to order his thoughts. After several long moments of uncertain silence, he looked up and regarded her with his one remaining eye; Atra's chest hurt at the unending depths of grief in his eyes. “Why?” He asked simply.

Atra bit her bottom lip, wondering where to start. It struck her after a moment; and she quietly said “I wanted to live.” Dimitri tilted his head, his thoughts all over his face. “I don't mean to say that I'm attempting to distance myself from blame; perhaps Odesse would have killed me if I had protested our objective, perhaps he simply would have sent me back to Shambhala, ultimately I made the choice go obey mostly on my own free will. But I didn't think of it as slaughtering innocent people; I thought I was striking a blow against an old enemy and the reason that Shambhala was trapped down in the darkness.”

She did her best to meet his gaze. “In Shambhala, there's no sunlight, no winds, no ocean; there are greenhouses and animals, but their upkeep is dependent on artificial means. Life down there is comfortable – perhaps more comfortable than a common girl like me would be if I lived in Faerghus – but its stangent. We often have to ration food only for it to run out anyway, and many people fall to sickness of the minds that comes from being cut off from the skies and the sun. No one is truly happy in Shambhala.” She shook her head. “Thales, and every Chancellor who came before him, told us that we were forced to flee underground by the Fell Star and her humans, people she had tainted with animal blood and enslaved to her will. He claimed that we were trapped down here so long as the surface kingdoms stood, that every food shortage, every system failure that resulted in people's death, only occurred because you were forcing us to live this way.”

“We didn't even know Shambhala _existed_.” Dimitri said bitterly.

“I did not know that,” Atra shook her head vehemently. “It's not an excuse, but it is the truth! Thales and his council control all that we know about Fodlan; no one leaves the city without their permission and no one speaks of it without them reminding us what is 'necessary' for Shambhala to finally leave the darkness. To feel the sun on our skin, to truly _live;_ to no longer have to suffer the tepid half-existence of the sunken city.”

She swallowed. “When I was in Duscur...I was put on a back posting, meant to tend to any injuries our people might gain over the course of the attack. But I...wandered away from my post, started listening to the tales of the Duscur Elders and the knights talking among themselves. I bumped into Glenn at one point, and he offered me a few kind words after telling off my handler for manhandling me.” She crossed her arms around her chest. “And I felt – under confusion and interest and a hundred other feelings – that we were making a mistake. That's when it started...and I knew that I had done something monstrous...” Her shoulders slumped. “So when I saw Glenn leading you out...”

Dimitri said nothing for a long moment. His eyes were closed and his breath was shuddering; Atra stood still, knowing how he was struggling with himself. She honestly hadn't expected anything more than a dismissal, now that the truth was out. Except -

“Why did you save us?” Dimitri rasped out eventually.

Atra blinked a few times, her breath hitching. “...I was frozen...watching those people get cut down... I heard them crying and pleading for mercy, I watched some t-try,” she gasped, “try to protect each other before being cut down...and everything I thought I knew was gone. They weren't strangers or faceless monsters anymore...they were other people... I wanted to do something, to go and help, but I didn't know where to turn, I was still scared of Odesse... But I saw him...and everything he did to save you...”

Dimitri lifted his head to look at her again, something flickering through his eyes. “He loves you so much...” Atra murmured. “I could see that so plainly...and that finally gave me strength. I wanted to save these two friends from an undeserved fate...I wanted to stop what I'd started, somehow, just...just...I had to...do something...” Her throat closed up and she slapped her hands over her mouth, muffling her sobs.

How could she think she had the right to cry when the one who suffered most from her actions was standing right in front of her?

Dimitri stared at her, his eyes half closed and remote without either the unhinged hatred she'd seen before or the accusation she'd expected.

“...I'm sorry.” She rasped, pressing both her hands into her chest. “I know it changes nothing, I know it's too late but I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_.” Her voice cracked; she swallowed hard to clear her throat, took a few steps forward and knelt down in front of him, pulling her ponytail aside to expose her neck. She thought she might have heard Dimitri's breath hitch. “I always...meant to come and confess. I wanted to defeat Thales first, but you know about him and his plans now. Justice is yours, your highness; do what you must...”

She waited. Silence hung over the room like a suffocating mist; she was looking at his heavy boots, breathing slowly as she tried to calm her racing heart. Her hands were trembling; she closed them in an attempt to hide it. Why now, why was it now...did she almost feel like she wanted to live...?

After what felt like forever...Dimitri took a few steps towards her, stopping with her bowed head about an inch away from his knees. Atra shivered when she felt his fingers gently rest against the top of her head, confusion winding through the mess of all those other feelings whirling inside her.

“I wish you hadn't said that.” Dimitri murmured. He sounded like he was a mile away. “I want to scream, I want to _hate you_ , and yet... you repent? I...I can't forgive you, not now, not – _tsk_...” He blew out a breath. “I pity you, Atra of Agartha. Killing you would give me no peace. Killing you...would bring me nothing. I believe you.”

Atra's eyes widened; her vision went oddly blurry as she slowly looked up at him, disbelieving. “Your Highness?” She asked tentatively.

Dimitri lightly pressed his hand against her head, then its weight vanished and he began to walk away. “I'm letting go of any hatred I had for you. You were a finger on the claw of Agartha, nothing more, and...I believe you.”

Atra stared after him as he slipped out of the training hall, tears trickling down her cheeks in equal parts shock and wonder.

**Glenn B Support**

“Did I see you with Marianne earlier?”

Atra gave her friend a faint half smile as he sat down next to her, toying slightly with the meal before her. “Of course you already know about that. You told me to try and talk to more people, and she found me in the chapel...she's been teaching my prayers.”

“That's fantastic,” Glenn said with a grin. “Now I just have to keep you from fleeing to Abyss the instant war councils end, and I'll be happy.”

“Augh...” Atra groaned, smacking her palm against her forehead. “Shouldn't you be reserving this level of mothering for Felix?”

Her blue-haired friend just chuckled, though there was a notably sad look in his eyes. “Felix grew up quite a bit while my back was turned,” he chuckled. “He doesn't need me looking over his shoulder quite so much. You, on the other hand, probably wouldn't eat or sleep if you thought you could get away with it.”

“As if you were much better when we were out on our own,” Atra complained. “I could tell Ingrid some stories that would get you into deep trouble, you know!”

“Don't you _dare_.” He pointed his fork threateningly at her.

She gave him her trademark half smile in response; the small gesture that told him that she _was_ happy, muted as her joy was. Glenn was both pleased and – as ever – a little frustrated to see that expression again; he was happy that she was happy, yet he knew that she rarely felt real intense joy thanks to Thales and what he had done to her. What he'd had her do, really. He'd been steadily peeling away those recriminations and piecing back together the girl that Thales had thrown on the floor and shattered when he forced her into his army, but it was slow going.

“You look happier too, you know,” Atra said – as if she'd read his mind. Glenn blinked a few times at her, and her smile widened just a bit. “I was afraid that I'd never be able to get you back home, yet here we are. If I could do that, maybe nothing this impossible. Not winning this war and not defeating Shambhala.”

“Is that optimism? From you?” Glenn teased, eyes gleaming.

“Oh, hush,” Atra gave him a shove. Her smile dimmed a bit, but it remained, and it was genuine. “It still feels a little strange saying that out loud. I can't quite explain why I feel this way... its the people around us.”

“Can you try? We've been running circles around Thales for years now. What's different now?”

“Mmm....” Atra looked across the room. “I think it's the professor...and Dimitri. I think they're capable of anything together. They bring out something in this...tangle of people they've brought together to fight the puppet Emperor and her allies from Shambhala that gives them strength I've never seen before. They...they give me hope.”

“I wonder if I should feel pleased or jealous,” Glenn mused.

Atra pushed his shoulder again, a giggle bubbling up in her throat. He smiled at her in response. “There it is.”

“What?”

He ruffled her hair, the same way he always had for Felix. “A smile worth fighting for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I finally remembered this was a thing! Ugh...I have no idea why this gave me so much trouble. I guess pinning the exact hurricane of emotions Dimitri would feel about her.


End file.
